Enough

by Dawn L. Chiletz

  She leans on the table and slides into the chair. “Sometimes the pain makes the joy that much sweeter. Don’t you see? There’s a reason that young man walked back into your life. You just need to figure out what that reason is. Open your heart, Ev. Believe in yourself. Allow yourself to be happy. You are enough!”

  “I do believe in myself. I know I’m enough.” As I say it out loud, I almost convince myself it’s true.

  “Prove it! See if he deserves you.”

  I squat down in front of her, and she places her hands on either side of my face. “You are a gift. The right man will know that and treat you like the treasure you are. Allow yourself to be treasured.”

  “I will. Even if Nick’s not the one.” I laugh.

  “Hmmm.” She shrugs. “I’d bet my can of red paint it’s always been him.”

  AT TWO O’CLOCK I hear my phone vibrating on the washing machine. I set it down earlier and forgot all about it as I spent my nervous energy cleaning house. I notice there are six missed calls from Gwen. I call her back.

  “Where have you been?” Gwen shouts as she answers.

  “I was cleaning. I had it on vibrate and didn’t hear you calling. What’s going on?”

  “Guess who showed up at the track today.”

  My insides clap in excitement and then pause, awaiting a possible pissed off friend. “Who?” I feign uncertainty.

  “Cooper!”

  “What?” I shout. I’m quite proud of myself for acting surprised.

  “Twice in one day. What are the chances?”

  I don’t know if she’s asking me seriously, and I pause uncertainly for a moment. She continues and I think I’m off the hook.

  “Today at practice he asked me to go out tonight, but I told him I had plans.”

  I pace back and forth. I take a load of towels out of the dryer and fold them nervously.

  “Then at noon, I was running the trail like I always do and I could sense another runner approaching fast. As soon as they got close, they slowed down behind me. It’s annoying as fuck when that happens. I could feel my blood boiling. I was about to turn around and tell them to just fucking pass me if I wasn’t going fast enough. Instead I just decided to stop dead in my tracks. He almost fell over me.”

  “Oh my God!” I laugh. Cooper has no game.

  “He had to avoid hitting me, and just as I was about to turn and yell at whoever was riding my ass, I saw it was him. I said, ‘God dammit, Cooper. What the hell?’ He stumbled to the ground and then started to laugh. It’s more like a rumble. His voice is so deep.”

  “Then what happened?” I ask, praying she didn’t read him the riot act.

  “I held out my hand to him to help him up. He was wearing a tight running shirt and shorts. It’s pretty obvious he lifts weights.”

  I smile to myself. I can’t help but anticipate something good between them.

  “I asked him what he was doing there, and he said one of his buddies recommended he try running the trails. He said he thought it might be a nice change of pace. I mean it’s crazy. What are the chances he would be there the same time as me on the same day I saw him at the soccer game?”

  I pause for a moment to consider her tone. It’s not accusatory. It sounds like legitimate surprise. I wonder if she knows I told him. Maybe she does but she’s not mad. I’m not going to admit to anything, so I simply say, “Sounds like fate!”

  “He ran with me the rest of the time. He did the full five miles and even chatted with me while we ran. It was nice to have company for once. We ran side by side at times. A couple of times I slowed just so I could look at his ass as he passed by.”

  I laugh loudly. “How was it?”

  “Let’s just say he made me more out of breath than I should have been.”

  My shoulders rise excitedly as I bite my teeth together. “Did he know what you were doing?”

  “Oh yeah, we laughed about it. He asked me how his form was. I told him he had a good stride and nothing to worry about. After that, he did the same to me. When I asked him about my form, it took him a bit to respond and it made me laugh. I said, ‘Hey, Coop, are you watching my form or just my ass?’ and he said, “I’m watching the form of your ass. I think I’ll hang out back here for a while and take in the view.”

  “Yay!” I can no longer hide my enthusiasm, and I’m pleasantly surprised when she seems to appreciate it.

  “I don’t know about that man,” she states through an obvious smile.

  “Then what happened? Then what happened?” I shout in excited repetition.

  Gwen laughs. “After we finished the run, we walked for a bit. He asked me again if my phone was broken and I gave him the look.”

  “Oh boy. I know that look.”

  “Yep, the one that says I don’t do games. Anyway, he asked me why I never write him back when he texts. I told him I’m busy. Then he asked me if I’m really busy tonight or if I just lied to him to get him to back off. I told him I lied, and he rubbed his sweaty beard and laughed. Then he lifted his shirt to wipe his face and I got a heated view of his six pack and tattoos.”

  “I’m not sure which I want to know more about: the abs or the tats!”

  “Both were FINE! In true Cooper form he pushed onward. He said, ‘I’ll give you one more shot to go out with me. I’m going uptown to the shooting range at three, and I thought maybe you’d like to tag along.’ I forgot that I told him how much I wanted to learn to shoot. I’ve been meaning to go since I got my permit and…”

  “Wait.” I stop her. “You have a permit? For a gun? Why is this the first I’ve heard of it?”

  Gwen sighs into the phone and I glance at the clock. I only have a few hours to get ready for dinner with Nick and I still don’t know what I’m going to wear.

  “I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want you to worry. I’ve always wanted to learn to shoot, so I got a gun a few months ago.”

  “You bought a gun? So you have one?” I stop suddenly. I thought I knew everything about Gwen. I can’t believe she never told me.

  “I’ve had it locked away. I was trying to find someone to take me, and I mentioned it to Cooper when we went to dinner. He knew I wanted a lesson. Who better to teach you than a marine-slash-cop?”

  “So what did you say?”

  “I said I might be able to squeeze him in for that.”

  “Yay!” I screech.

  “Why are you so happy about it?” she asks skeptically.

  “Because, Gwen… Cooper is a good guy and I’m glad you’re giving him a chance.”

  “I’m not giving him anything. It’s not a date.”

  “Okay…” I roll my eyes as I fold my last towel.

  “Are you ready for tonight?” she asks.

  “No,” I laugh nervously. “I have no idea what I’m going to wear and I have no idea how to behave.”

  “I can help with the clothes, and as far as your behavior, just be yourself. He likes you just the way you are.”

  I wish I could believe her.

  GWEN DROPS OFF several of her nicest outfits for me to try on before she leaves to meet Cooper at his house. She calls me on the way there and I can sense a difference in the way she’s approaching him.

  She says he’s being secretive about the whole thing, and it has her nervous and excited at the same time. We promise to compare dates first thing in the morning, and when I say date, she doesn’t deny it this time. I call that progress.

  I must change at least ten times. Nothing Gwen brings over seems to make me feel the way I want to feel and most of it is too tight. I search through every item in my closet and still can’t find something to make me feel proud. My phone pings with a text from Grandma Kay.

  Kay: I hope you get this. Kale says I’m doing just fine with the texting. I forgot to tell you that I left you a little something. It’s hanging in Marlow’s closet. She wanted to look at it and I forgot I left it there. I brought it over the other night. I don’t know why, but I think your da
ddy told me to. Kale said I’m not supposed to write this much and that I’m slow. Have fun, songbird.

  I practically run into Marlow’s room. When I see it hanging on the door, I almost burst into tears. It’s my mom’s blue dress. She bought it for my graduation and never got to wear it. She said she saw it in the store window and daddy told her to splurge. He had said, “Our only child only graduates once!”

  I hold it up to me and pray that it fits. I rush to the bathroom and unzip it before carefully stepping into it and lifting it around my waist. I reach behind me and slowly zip it up as far as I can before I raise my hands above my head to zip it the rest of the way. I breathe deeply before I open my eyes to see how I look. When I finally gaze at myself in the mirror, my hands fly to my mouth. I look just like my mom, and the dress fits me perfectly.

  The long sleeves are lacy and blue. It fits at the waist and flows out slightly. It’s a little above the knee and shorter than I’m used to wearing, but as I back away from the mirror to get a better look, I’m amazed that my legs don’t seem bad in it. The center of the dress scoops downward and reveals a slight bit of cleavage. I giggle to myself and wonder if I can pull it off. I run into the bedroom and pull out a black push-up bra that I haven’t worn in years. I remove the dress, put on the new bra and black suctioning panties, and everything fits and lifts appropriately.

  I mentally attempt to prepare myself for dinner with Nick. I take deep breaths and tell myself he’s just some guy and it’s no big deal, but my nerves are all over the place. My insecurities threaten just below the surface. I try not to question his motivation for wanting to see me again, but the idea that he has something to prove fills me with doubt.

  I leave my hair down but curl the ends just a bit. I’m proud of myself for being ready ten minutes before I need to leave for the restaurant. He wanted to pick me up, but I insisted I meet him instead. In the few minutes before I need to leave, I pace the length of the kitchen in Gwen’s heels mostly to practice walking in them. I pray I don’t trip as I stumble to my minivan. When Nick told me the name of the restaurant, I checked it out online. Leave it to him to pick an upscale place. I actually believe I’d fit in there in this dress. I feel amazing and beautiful.

  When I arrive, I valet park just as Nick advised and make my way into the restaurant. The lighting is low. Not so low that you can’t see people’s faces, but enough to make me feel a little sleepy. I almost yawn, but I stop myself.

  “Can I help you?”

  “Yes, I’m meeting someone for dinner.”

  “Name please?” the hostess asks.

  “Nick Rowen.”

  “Right this way. Mr. Rowen is waiting.”

  She seems to look me over. I’m probably being paranoid. The front windows are massive, and there’s a fireplace blazing in the corner. I’m glad it’s warm since I didn’t wear a coat. I didn’t want to wear my parka with such a pretty dress. I imagine how I’d look if I had, and I shake my head at the thought.

  I’m shaking with increased anxiety, and I try to remind myself that it’s just dinner. But if it’s a date, then I’m screwed. I don’t remember the last time I was on a date, and I certainly don’t remember how to act on one. I feel a bit flustered.

  We turn the corner and the view is spectacular. There are about twenty tables all with fine white tablecloths and candles burning brightly for centerpieces. The candles cast a glow on people’s faces, and even though the room is dark, it’s not hard to see. The hostess stops for a moment to search for Nick. I think I see him before she does. My breath hitches in my chest.

  He’s seated in the centermost position in the restaurant. He’s wearing a dark grey suit and a dark tie. It fits him like a glove, like it was made for him. Shit, maybe it was. Aside from the fact that he helps coach soccer, I know nothing about him. I instantly regret not Googling him as Gwen suggested.

  As the hostess scans the tables for him, I continue to observe him from the wall. He’s leaning back in his chair, and his hand is slowly wiping the condensation from his glass of water. He’s deep in thought. His serious expression is smoldering. I’m no longer cold. I feel a sudden warmth pass through me as I gaze at him from afar. Two beautiful women in tiny skirts angle their way past him, and he doesn’t even raise his eyes in their direction. Was Gram right all along? Does he really only have eyes for me?

  “There he is.” The hostess points in the direction I’m already staring, and I tell her I can make it the rest of the way. She heads back to her station, but I catch her watching me curiously as she leaves.

  I take a deep breath, flip my hair, pucker my lips, and straighten my dress before I take a step toward him. The soft knock of my heels on the dark wooden floors is muffled by the voices nearby. He’s so focused on his drink, I wonder if he’d even notice if I tripped. Then I pray I don’t trip and take my next steps very cautiously.

  When I’m three feet away, his eyes lift to me and he takes a deep, savoring breath before a small crooked smile lifts the corner of his mouth. I can’t take my eyes off that smile. Within a second it’s a full-on grin. He places his hand over his heart and stands as I approach. His face is framed by dark stubble, and his hair is perfectly styled. He appears to have walked out of a magazine.

  “You’re captivating.” He holds out his hand for mine, and when he has it, he presses it to his lips. He’s not the same boy I remember. This man has been around. He’s sophisticated and worldly. It makes me nervous and excites me at the same time. The stubble of his face glides across the skin of my hand, and my stomach reminds me of her desire to feel it too. He holds out my chair and slides me forward.

  “Nice place,” I say, waving my hand at my face.

  “I hoped you’d like it. Have you been here before?” he asks as he pulls out his chair.

  “Oh yeah,” I stammer confidently. “The kids and I come here all the time for pancakes.” He smirks and I smile. “No, I’ve never been. It’s a little out of single-mom price range.”

  He sits and adjusts his tie into place. “Well, you’re with me tonight, and I want you to dine in a place that comes close to deserving you.”

  I can’t help the blush of my cheeks. I’ve only eaten at a place this nice once when I had to go out to a business dinner with Mike. I gently place my napkin on my lap and feel slightly ruffled as our waiter approaches.

  “Good evening, Mr. Rowen. So good to have you with us again. Would you care to see a wine list?”

  “That won’t be necessary, Rodrick. How do you feel about a red?” he asks me.

  He knows the waiter by name? “Red’s good,” I respond with a lackluster smile. I don’t know anything about wine other than the Walton’s cheap brand does the trick.

  “We’ll have the Sauvignon.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  “So I guess you actually do come here all the time,”

  “Mostly for work,” he assures.

  “And what is work exactly?” I press the glass to my lips and take a sip of water. I find it odd to drink water from such a fancy glass. I’m used to plastic. It tastes like expensive water if there is such a thing. “You were in business school the last time we talked,” I add. His fingers continue to dance on his glass, and I can’t help but be distracted by them.

  “I finished business school and went on to get my law degree. I work for Macer, Martin and Fisher downtown.”

  The name rings a bell, but I have no idea who they are. “Wow, a lawyer, huh?”

  He nods.

  “What made you decide to move here?” I’ve been dying to know the answer to that question, and as soon as I had the opportunity to ask it, I took it.

  Just as Nick begins to respond, the waiter brings our wine. He pours us each a glass and waits for me to take a sip to let him know if it’s up to par. I take a slow sip. It’s drier than I’ve had before, but I nod my head appreciatively as if it’s the best I’ve ever had. God knows I’ve had more grape juice than wine.

  “You wanted to know
why I moved?”

  I nod my head.

  “Would you like to order first before you hear my long, boring story?” he asks with a slight chuckle.

  “Oh… sure.” I lift the menu and I’m bombarded by a long list of choice cuts in various sauces, half of which I can’t pronounce. “Why don’t you just order for me? If that’s okay?”

  He smiles brightly and licks his lips. “I’d love to.”

  I place my menu down on the table and take a large gulp of wine. I’m feeling increasingly out of my element.

  Rodrick returns and Nick orders us both a seafood appetizer of some kind and a steak with a complicated type of wine sauce and an ostentatious roasted vegetable or something. I take another sip of my yucky wine and sigh internally. If I’m not careful, I’m going to be toasted before dinner arrives. I haven’t eaten all day, and I know I’m drinking the wine too fast.

  “So, tell me.” I’m suddenly aware that I need to hear his story while I’m still able to comprehend it. I eye the bread on a nearby table and feel my stomach gurgle. The wine is going straight to my head.

  Nick runs his hand over his chin and plays with his fork briefly before he stares up into my eyes. “I’ve worked for Macer, Martin and Fisher for the last eleven years. They have international clients, and I’ve traveled the world setting up contracts for them. It was an incredible opportunity and they appreciated my desire to travel as often as possible.”

  I nod my head and attempt to shush my inner voice. “Traveled the world?”

  He adjusts his napkin on his lap and leans forward on the table. “I’ve been to Italy, London, Spain, Brazil, and Japan, to name a few. All amazing places.”

  I nod again and offer a small smile. I’ve never even left the state. We don’t fit. I shush my inner voice again and take a large gulp of wine.

  “But a few years ago they asked me to come here to their corporate office for a long-term assignment, and I couldn’t refuse.”

  “Must have been a great opportunity,” I say.